To Whom It May Concern: (yes, this is the fifth letter)
I feel abondoned. You never spoke to me again after that stupid fight. I always wondered if you would still talk to me w/out getting into a mess about who did what wrong, me always being the "who" somehow.
I know for sure that a whole bunch of clarification needs to be worked out. I forget sometimes that clarity is the problem. When these problems first arose I accused you of something I knew and still believe isn't true. I thought you were against me at all costs. I assumed you hated me whether for reason or not. I though you schemed all this trouble on purpose, making it seem I was the bad one in any situation.
From my viewpoint I can only find one time that I caused trouble. Weeks later I find that you still are not over this. I judged without knowing; I knew that was wrong on my part. But how can two sides of the same story become one? They can't unless they are told and not hidden. But you decide to hide your stories and I will continue keeping my side. Arrogance.
I know I need you to know some things if we are to be friends again. But you will not come to me, be it for whatever reason. There is trouble between us; misunderstanding is obviously your specialty. It hurts to think you might never again talk to me. I am left alone thinking up possibilites of reasons as to why you seem to not have any care. All that I come up with are selfish (on your part).
I feel like screaming into your face, "I have nothing to say to you; leave me alone." When really on the flip side I have my whole f*cking heart to let out in front of you. It is filled with hate, questions, contempt and a ton more. There's only a small portion that yields forgiveness and love. I do not want to kill you anymore as I kept that secret before now. All I wait for is that you ask if you want to have lunch or something friendly like that. Hypothetically, I imagine myself being terrified of accepting the invitation, but I realize we do need to talk. Possibly not over food though.
On the issue of peace, it seems there is none between us. It seems that we are still at war.
Sometimes I put all my thoughts and worries about this situation down and try imagining what you think about me and all this mess now. Honestly, there is no sure answer on this. I do not know you and have never known you, excluding the times in our young childhood. So to be quite honest on what I think you are thinking, I really have no idea. And I have no proof that you love me or have forgiven me. Our ways have departed and I do not hang out with you as much as I have before.
When I saw you the other day, I was not myself. If I was myself, I would've taken a stand for my own dignity and wouldn't have said a word nor made eye contact. Later I would've regretted that action and felt bad for what I did. But how I reacted was I guess what we call a gut reflex. I guess I still haven't forgiven you if I can't look you in the eye, which I did not do that day.
This is why I waste/spend my life surfing the internet and on the computer (offline). I suppose you can say words are my best friend; afterall, if they are written, they are my anti-drug. Words, whether they be from poem, song, or my blogs, are my life and they live and tell in whispers. People, real live ones anyway, just don't listen. That's right, you do not listen to the broken, needy, and oppressed. Online... yes, they listen... most do anyway.
Do you still wonder why I was a bit suicidal and wanting to harm myself right after our last conversation? I'm not sure if you have lost trust from a friend you value having. I wasn't mad at myself for losing that trust, but rather I was angry at you for not taking the time to even try to listen. I suppose I need to get used to you as not being the listening type. Anyways, the honest reason I cut myself was because I had so much anger towards you. When one cuts, they let emotion out. I know it's really weird because it seems the anger (or whatever the emotion) is "locked" up inside/under the skin and cutting the flesh open seems to "unlock" it and set it free. I knew that our conversation created much anger. And yet that issue I consider to be so minute. But I became too focused on the anger and seeing you, even a few days later, was the trigger. You didn't know it and I did not want you to know. Soon this anonymous friend told you about my cutting problem, but anonymous did not know that you were the cause. I knew you had no idea. In a way, your response to anonymous was right, but it had nothing to do with my cutting, nothing at all. In another way, I saw it humorous, because it proved me right - that you had no idea you were the cause, or at least your words. Still, because of fear, because of you, anonymous does not know either that you were the cause.
There is only one person who knows you (as a person, not just any person) are the one I have had trouble with. That person listened but I decided to not share my cutting problem in the story. There is not one human person on this planet that has and knows every puzzle piece. Are you proud of me now, now that I kept all my horrid feelings towards you a secret? See, that is what is wrong. I learned this rather quickly in life. One shouldn't keep his/her feelings inside like I have done. I block you from my xanga posts not only because I was angry at you, but because I knew you would not appreciate my vinting on the web. If you found this out I'm sure you would chew me out saying something like, "You should've came to me with/about this." Yes, I agree, if you have a problem, go to the source. But if the source is going to be a trigger for you to see, and already you aren't mentally healthy, would you still go? Posting these stories online does not necessarily mean I'm gossiping or talking behind your back. It means this is my way of vinting since I have found no other sources.
So now, through those last two long paragraphs, hopefully you understand why I post on the internet and why I cut instead of asking to talk with the person who hurt me. It just makes better sense to me. Hopefully one day you will understand my feelings, my grief, and my way of doing things. I'll keep on praying. But I think it's just that our personalities will always clash.
